


The Break And The Fall

by Lobotomite



Series: HDM AU [1]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: HDM AU, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 08:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13454835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobotomite/pseuds/Lobotomite
Summary: Aaron has fucked up. Again. So he does what he does best: he runs.





	The Break And The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> The self harm in this fic isn't actually possible outside of this specific fantasy verse, but it is the focus of the fic, so please take care if that would be upsetting for you.
> 
> Set back when Aaron was a teenager, some time after Chas and Paddy have broken up and before he came out.

He's fucked up. Again. His mum isn't speaking to him, Paddy's only tolerating him because he feels bad for him, and he's just royally fucked up his only friendship and almost certainly the possibility of being treated anything close to normally by everyone else.

So he runs, just like he always does, away from judgement and repercussions and reality, head down and arms pumping as he bolts out of the village and towards the trees. He's panting, breaths harsh in his throat; but he'd be doing that even if he wasn't moving, he knows, gasping like he's dying and curling into himself, so he flees instead. Adarah's claws are needle-sharp, digging into his skin through his shirt as she clings to him, and that familiar rage bubbles up in his chest. She's broken, he's broken, _they're_ broken, and he reaches up, grabbing at her and hauling her off his shoulder in a too tight grip, stumbling as he does but not falling, another wave of disgust making him sick when all she does is whimper.

He drops her without stopping, casting her aside like he wishes the he could do to himself and the myriad of flaws and defects that he's cobbled together into a personality. Their connection shudders as he quickly leaves her behind, knowing how small and fragile she must look curled up all alone in the grass even though he doesn't turn around to look. He never does. It's enough to feel the distance, the general background presence of their connection starting to twist into discomfort, like slightly over stretching, as he hits the first tree and keeps going, plunging into the shade.

Him and Adarah can get further away from each other than everyone he knows can get away from their daemons; whether it's because they've had so much practice or are simply more comfortable with the stretch, he doesn't know, but even their bond has its limits, and it's not much further before he starts to ache.

He keeps going, relishing in the proof that he's getting further away, entertains thoughts of never stopping, of running past the point of agony and feeling the bond snap, freeing him from himself. He doesn't make it that far, though; not this time. He makes it past ache and into pain, pushes through that until it feels like he's got a gaping, raw wound in his chest that he's tearing further and further, until it takes over everything and he has to fall to his knees, retching and coughing up bile and folding in on himself, trembling like a leaf.

He tries to stay where he is, angry at himself for stopping but unable to force himself any further, but it _hurts._  God, he never fully remembers just how much it hurts until he's here again, mouth and throat acrid and burning and a searing pain deep in his chest. He ends up shuffling backwards, little by little conceding to the bond pulling him back to the little rat he left behind, until the pain recedes enough for him to slump on the ground and pant, trying to catch his breath.

He wonders if Adarah is trying to get to him, or if she's waiting for him to come back himself; wonders if she's scared, out in the open, easy prey for a cat or a bird or a dog. Frightened anticipation shudders through him as he ponders the possibility of one of them getting her, snuffing them both out without Aaron even knowing it was coming. That's obviously never happened, and it doesn't this time; but he does feel a sudden surge through the bond, a strange, almost uncomfortable warmth pulse through over and over, and it takes a few disorienting moments of the confusing mingling of warmth and pain for him to realise what it must be.

Someone's touching her.

The only other people who've ever touched her were his mum, when he was a kid, and Sandra and - and Gordon, but he'd put a stop to all of that years ago, bristling with anger and hurt and closing himself off with the excuse of teenage prickliness and boundary setting. He hadn't quite realised until right now just how much he'd been aching for that closeness, of having someone he trusts touch the other part of himself.

And it must be someone he trusts; he doesn't know - has a suspicion, but doesn't, can't, know - who it is, but he knows what it feels like when someone you don't want touching your daemon does, and it's nothing like the soothing heat still running through him. The knife-sharp pain in his chest is starting to recede, and he's just starting to get his breath back when he hears his name, hears a familiar, welcome voice calling for him.

"Here," he manages to respond, forcing himself upright, hating himself for being relieved when Adam comes crashing through the undergrowth and thumps to his knees next to him, hurriedly but gently bundling Adarah from the cradle of his hands into Aaron's arms.

She claws desperately up his chest and crawls through the collar of his shirt, pressing into his skin so that he can feel her tiny heart hammering against his skin as he holds her close with one hand, the pain gone now that she's close but the bond still feeling raw and his limbs feeling weak..

He feels a wet nose against his cheek, then his throat, and hears Adam suck in a startled breath as Mabel presses against him as well, leaning into his chest. He wraps an arm automatically around her, fingers digging into soft fur without thinking through the implications, and only after does he realised that he might have gone way too far, that Adam might be furious or even just uncomfortable. But there's a beat, and then two, of sick uncertainty - and then Adam is leaning in, too, wraps one arm around Mabel so that his hand is gripping Aaron's arm and wraps the other around Aaron, murmuring low reassurances.

Aaron knows Adam is going to have questions, is going to wonder how the hell him and Adarah had ended up so far away from each other, and he's really not sure how he's going to answer them without sounding like an absolute nutter. But for right now, all he focusses on is the three warm bodies pressed close to him and the welcomed warmth of knowing Adam cared enough to come after him.


End file.
